Scar
by jkdg3461
Summary: Alex is given a near impossible mission. 'Alex Rider x Harry Potter' crossover fic. PARODY.
1. Alan Blunt loves showers

**A/N:**I'm a bad, baaaad girl. I've got, like, four (or five) unfinished stories going at the same time.

However, I totally could _not_ resist this; call me insane, but I quite like the idea. By the way, if you're waiting for me to update _Chain of Hearts_, well… Don't hold your breath, okay? You'll pass out before I add anything.

I like to underline, _italicize,_ make things **bold**, and _**do all three together**_. It's fun.

Reviews warm my heart in this wonderfully BALLS Australian winter (as in, _cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey_), and flames warm my ass.

**A FEW IMPORTANT THINGS:**

**1. **These are all book!characters. Do _not_ be expecting Bill!Mr.Blunt and Sophie!Mrs.Jones, because that's just _weird_.

**2. **This is a parody. Do _not_ take it seriously, guys!

**3. **Trish said, 'let there be slash', and there was slash. Don't like; don't read!

**.-xXXx-.**

Alex Rider groaned and let the hot water cascade onto his back, seeming to wash away all his anxiety. It might've returned tenfold, however, if he'd noticed the soft click and the slow pan of a camera mounted on the wall opposite.

"Excellent," Mr. Blunt said, watching his computer screen intently. He was in his darkened office in the heart of London. "Very excellent indeed. Do you agree, Mrs. Jones?"

"Hmm?" she replied intelligently, glancing up from her magazine, for she was in fact an intelligent, unfeeling woman who was not at all impressed that her colleague of more than two decades had hired a fourteen-year-old boy who had quite often upstaged her.

No matter how hard she tried to get him killed – all in a day's work, really – he always outdid her, and she was four times his age! Now Alan was now watching said the fourteen-year-old boy as he showered – was it not enough that he stole her glory, but had to steal her _master_ and her _boss_, too? The nerve of young people these days, _really_!

She grunted an incoherent reply.

"Well, he's definitely Ian's son," Mr. Blunt said, his eyes widening behind his creepy bifocals.

"He's Ian's _nephew_, Alan."

"…Right."

"Alan, are you sure these, erm–" she groped around for his exact phrasing "–_increased security measures_ are necessary for Alex?"

"Yes, yes," he said, flapping a hand as though to shoo a particularly annoying fly. "Absolutely positive."

"And are you sure that he shouldn't know about these, erm, new developments?"

For such a smart woman, Mrs. Jones was incredibly exasperating. Mr. Blunt sighed.

Mrs. Jones, anticipating confessions of love and _it's-not-just-sex_ (a woman could always dream), stared at him expectantly.

"But of course, my dear Jonesy," Mr. Blunt said in what would've been a blithe voice, but for his gritted teeth.

"_Don't_ call me Jonesy," she said, and turned the page of _Cosmo_ in a huff.

Mr. Blunt looked back at the screen, and screeched, "Damn it to heck!"

Mrs. Jones glanced up once more and said, "What is it, Alan?"

"He's fully clothed!" Mr. Blunt shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at his coworker. "This is your fault!"

"Actually, it's not," she replied in a bored way. "He has a mission to attend to, that _you_ assigned him. Which, by the way, I'm not quite sure about – are you sure it's _safe_?"

"He'll be fine," Mr. Blunt said sulkily.

**.-xXXx-.**

"So, what's _your_ wand made of?" Cho asked the new boy excitedly.

"Um," Alex said, not sure whether or not she was talking about the wand in his hand. "Erm, stuff. With stuff in the stuff. You know the –"

"Oh, that's great," Cho said, a blush spreading on her face. "But I was talking about – erm – the one in your pocket. That you use for magic."

"Magic?" Alex repeated blankly.

"Yeah…" Cho said. "Surely you know about… Oh, never mind."

Alex stood for a moment in the middle of the hall, watching Cho back away slowly. Then a thought struck him.

"Magic!?" he cried, attracting the stares of a fair few people. "You mean, like in Harry Potter?"


	2. My dad is rich

**A/N:** Oh my gosh, I haven't updated this guy in ages.

SO sorry!

**.-xXXx-.**

"You guys have _escalators_?" Alex asked, following the tall, magnificently-robed man up a moving staircase.

"Yes," Dumbledore said merrily.

"Why are people always asking me about my –" Alex raised his hands and air quoted, "– '_wand_'?"

"It's a very common question around here; people wish to know if you're _compatible_ with them, or if –"

He stopped abruptly at the top of the staircase. Alex bumped into his back.

"Wait," Dumbledore said, holding up a withered hand.

There was silence for a few moments.

"What are we –?" Alex burst out.

"Listen," Dumbledore whispered.

Alex froze.

They could hear yelling from the other side of the door.

Dumbledore sighed, and then swung open the door. The noises of raised voices filled the landing.

"DON'T YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN JUST –"

"OH, PUT A SOCK IN IT!"

"I WILL NOT _PUT A SOCK IN IT_, YOU LITTLE –"

There were sounds of wheezing and coughing.

Dumbledore strode inside the office and cleared his throat. The first voice cut off abruptly, paused awkwardly, and then said pleasantly, "Sir!"

Alex cautiously crept round the doorframe and peeked inside.

A tall boy with platinum blonde hair was sprawled out on the richly carpeted floor. Another boy, with messy dark hair and glasses, sat astride the first boy's chest, his hands around his neck.

A desk sat at the other end of the room. Atop the books and papers that covered it sat a large, steaming turkey.

"Oh, I thought it might've been you," Dumbledore said cheerily.

The dark-haired boy's hands tightened briefly around the other boy's neck.

"Hello, Professor," gasped the blonde boy.

"So, what seems to be the problem?" Dumbledore asked blithely (for he had no other tone of voice).

"Malfoy was singing to me in Potions," growled the dark-haired boy.

"Oh! What a _romantic _gesture," cooed Dumbledore, moving to sit down behind his desk (which still bore the steaming turkey).

The two boys on the floor looked at each other dubiously and shrugged simultaneously.

"Not so much," said the dark-haired boy carefully. "It was a very _rude_ song, if you get my drift."

"Oh! What a _kinky_ gesture," cooed Dumbledore.

"Not _that_ kind of rude!" yelled both boys. The dark-haired boy immediately jumped off the blonde boy.

"I didn't even know that you _knew_ that word!" yelled the blonde boy, lying, apparently paralyzed in shock, on the floor. "I was singing _My Dad Is Rich_, by Draco and the Malfoys!"

"I know everything," Dumbledore said enigmatically while the blonde boy frantically burst out singing. "I know that Snape thinks about Buckbeak and Dobby, covered in honey, when he gets off."

"_My daddy's always there to open all my doors_," sang the blonde boy spasmodically. "_You have to call a Patronus just to catch a glimpse of yours!_"

"_Everyone_ knows that, Professor," cried the dark-haired boy. "He announced it at dinner last week!"

"I know that Pomona Sprout's relationship with those Mandrakes is hardly platonic," continued Dumbledore. "I know that Stubby Boardman is actually Salazar Slytherin in disguise."

"_My mommy says she loves me when she tucks me into bed – how's your mommy doing in the Mirror of Erised?_"

"But he's such a good singer!" shouted the dark-haired boy. "Stubby, that is."

"I know _everything_," Dumbledore said loudly, "except why you two boys have decided to give me this handsome turkey. But I thank you."

"_My dad is rich, and your dad is DEAD! My dad is rich, and YOUR DAD IS DEAD!_" finished the blonde boy, practically sobbing in desperation.

Dumbledore paused and tore a leg off the turkey. He gnawed at it hungrily.

"Oh," said the dark-haired boy. "That."

"The shit's gonna hit the fan now, Potter," said the blonde boy, wiping away his tears and sitting up.

"Yes," said Potter. "That."

"Yes!" cried Dumbledore, spraying bits of turkey everywhere. "This!"

"_That_," Potter said cautiously, "is Fawkes."

Dumbledore gaped.

Bits of turkey fell out of his mouth and onto the desk.

Alex cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Rider," Dumbledore said stiffly, gazing down at the turkey.

**.-xXXx-.**

"So, this is Hogwarts," Potter said, leading Alex down the hall, the blonde boy close behind. "And this is Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts' hottest guy and biggest prat."

"Thanks," Draco said. "And I guess you've heard of Harry Potter. _Everyone_'s heard of _Harry Potter_."

"Oh, yes," Alex replied. "I tried reading the books, but I prefer the movies."

Draco and Harry looked awkwardly at each other.

"So…" Harry said uncomfortably. "…What's your wand made out of?"


	3. Muguggle

**A/N:** Tulip is Mrs. Jones, for future reference.

**.-xXXx-.**

Alex bade Draco and Harry farewell and shut and locked the door between them. He checked the small room for bugs (the natural kind, not the electronic kind – you never know what might show up in this castle), chucked his backpack onto the floor and flopped onto the narrow bed.

Finally safe in his own private quarters near Gryffindor tower, Alex sat up and pulled a thick file out of his backpack and flipped it open.

A large photograph of Mr. Blunt stared up at him. Mr. Blunt was draped over a green chaise lounge, his wrinkled hands splayed on his equally wrinkled chest. His mouth was set in a pout and his wrinkled bottom sat on a piece of leopard-print cloth.

It took Alex a moment to notice that: a) Mr. Blunt was completely naked and that b) the only thing preventing Alex's retinas being burned out by the sight of Mr. Blunt's _private parts_ was a small yellow Post-It note.

Alex shuddered. It was fairly hard to think of Mr. Blunt as a normal man with normal… Parts.

Written on the Post-It note was "_ENJOY PRIVATELY_" in Mr. Blunt's handwriting, with a little winking face next to it.

"_Oookaay_…" Alex said slowly. He carefully turned the photograph over.

And stared.

**MISSION: QWERTYSIRTOUEX47**

**OPERATIVE: ALEX RIDER**

**MISSION BRIEF: IDENTIFY AND REMOVE THE FOLLOWING PERSON FROM PREMISES DEAD OR ALIVE:**

**NAME: UNKNOWN (CODENAME: BOMSTREAKER)**

**GENDER: UNKNOWN**

**AGE: 11-150**

**APPEARANCE: ****VAGUELY ANDROGYNOUS. SOURCES INSIST THAT BOMSTREAKER HAS ONE DEFINING MARK ON HIS/HER FACE**

**BOMSTREAKER HAS THE POTENTIAL TO KILL THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE IN A SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME.**

Alex sighed. Again, it was up to him to save the world.

He turned the page and sighed again. There was a short note from Mrs. Jones, reading simply: _Don't screw this up_.

Oh, the trust that MI6 had in him! Alex rolled his eyes and flipped the note over.

There was a note from Mr. Blunt underneath it.

_Hello, sugarcakes,_

_How has it been so far? Are they treating you okay? Is anyone _mis_treating you (in the not-nice way)? How many people there are into BDSM?_

_Fail this mission__ and you will be punished in the most delightful of ways. Succeed, and… Well… I'll think of something, sweetcheeks. We'll have fun._

_Did you like the photo? I really enjoyed posing for __it, but Tulip didn't have very much fun photographing me. I really hope you enjoyed it._

_I dreamt about you last night.__ It was all very slow and gentle, so very unlike the night before! I can't decide which side of you I prefer (wink)._

_Sweet dreams, my love. Rest__, knowing that you're making someone __**very**__ happy._

_Alan_

Alex shuddered again. A knock on the door made him jump. The thick file slipped from his lap and spilled all over the floor.

He swore and kicked all the papers under the bed. Most of them seemed to be letters from Mr. Blunt.

Whoever was on the other side of the door knocked harder.

Alex got down on his knees and shoved the last piece of paper under the bed. He pulled the coverlet over the edges peeking out.

The knocking grew more insistent. He crossed the room and threw open the door.

A ruffled-looking girl with long, scraggly blonde hair stood outside, her mouth slightly open.

"How come you're here?" she gabbled, pointing a shaking finger at him. "You're a Muggle; Muggles can't see the castle. How can you have a wand? It's a real wand – why would Ollivander sell it to you? Why didn't Mr. Blunt tell you what you were getting into before you came here?"

Suddenly, the ceiling seemed to tear open. A large black vortex swirled above her.

She swore and lunged forward. Alex jumped backwards as the girl gripped the door frame.

The vortex began to suck her in. Her feet left the ground and she dangled limply like a rag doll in midair, still gripping the door frame.

She screamed, "HELP ME!"

Alex stared at her, and shrugged.

He felt his hair stand on end as the girl was sucked into the vortex with a final scream. Then the hole closed, and all was normal again.

Harry walked past, looking as if he hadn't noticed the girl being sucked into oblivion right in front of him. Alex smiled for reasons unknown.

"How are you?" he asked Alex blithely.

Alex blinked to rid himself of the image of the girl.

"Was that one of those trick stairs?" he asked, although the nearest staircase was three hallways away.

Harry shrugged, "Nah, I think she got sucked into a plot hole. Anyway, I'm here to call you for dinner."

Alex looked back at his room. One corner of a page stuck out from under the blanket.

"Okay," he said, and left, forgetting to lock the door behind him.

**.-xXXx-.**

Harry and Alex walked into the Great Hall a few minutes late.

Heads turned as they went towards the Gryffindor table.

"Muggle," said Luna Lovegood dreamily, staring at a point three inches to Alex's left.

"Muggle," whispered Terry Boot maliciously.

"Muggle," said Padma and Parvati Patil at the same time, from opposite sides of the room.

"Muggle," said Ron Weasley through a mouthful of potatoes.

"Muggle," whispered Neville Longbottom, spilling gravy into his lap.

"Muggle," hissed Pansy Parkinson.

"What about him?" Draco Malfoy asked in a bored way.

"Muguggle," stated Vincent Crabbe.

"Muffle," replied Gregory Goyle (whose name had the most annoying alliteration ever).

"Oh, yes!" Dumbledore said happily from his post at the staff table. "We have a Muggle here to visit!"

Snape looked up from his examination of his toenails and said, "Really, sir? I don't suppose the children have noticed it for themselves."

"Of course not," Dumbledore chided him. "They're only innocent children. Especially those Slytherins of yours – they're _angels_."

Snape looked down. Two seventh-year Slytherins were pulling a first-year Hufflepuff's hair while a third tore up the unfortunate girl's teddy bear. Three fifth-year Slytherins were taking it in turns to _Crucio_ a third-year Ravenclaw for homework answers. Crabbe and Goyle were poking each other with soup spoons and laughing hysterically.

"Whatever you say," Snape said in a bored way. He didn't notice that, next to Crabbe and Goyle's pokefest, Draco Malfoy was staring fixedly at Harry Potter.


	4. Mary Sue!

**A/N:** Did _nobody_ read the insanely long A/N at the very start? (I can understand if you didn't… I wouldn't've, either.) Guys, _this is slash_. You can't make it not-slash, nor can you convince me to make it not-slash. Just deal with it, because it's kinda sort of really _**imperative to the plot**_!

_Et j__e suis desolée_ for not updating way sooner (like, a million years ago sort of sooner). I had a good excuse, kind of. Anyway, none of my stories have been updated for like ages. Miss me? (:

**Review reply: **Cheyanne Jenn, IFLY so much that you get a figurative Internet cookie _avec M&Ms_. Shealtiel, you're _still_ a tool. Nyahh.

**.-xXXx-.**

"How _are_ you?" purred the new girl, Mary-Sue Emerald Sapphire Tinklebell Jones. Her purple-green-blue-gold eyes glittered at Alex as if they, too, wanted a piece of him.

"Not bad," Alex mumbled, shoving a spoonful of gravy-soaked potato into his mouth. Mary-Sue Emerald Sapphire Tinklebell Jones flipped her shiny, (naturally highlighted) blonde hair – and it didn't look stupid or ridiculous. Just perfect.

"Enjoying your meal?" she simpered, pouting her perfectly perfect lips at him (perfectly so).

"Mmm, I just thought…" Alex said in a gravy-potato-ish way, "It's just that – the food doesn't _taste_ very magical."

The whole of the Gryffindor table went silent, except for one unfortunate second-year that shouted – above the noise that was no longer there – "And then the Healer said to me, 'It's _not_ a suppository, Blake, so I don't know where on earth _you've_ put it!'".

(And for those of you that are wondering what Mary-Sue Emerald Sapphire Tinklebell Jones was doing at the Gryffindor table: where _else_ would she be Sorted? Not in Hufflepuff, that's for sure.)

"_Shit_," Harry hissed in Alex's ear. "RUN, RUN!"

"Why?" Alex asked, setting down his spoon.

Hermione was storming up to them, steam practically pouring out of her ears.

"_Excuse me_," she said forcefully, pushing Mary-Sue Emerald Sapphire Tinklebell Jones out of the seat next to Alex, "Are you aware that house-elves have been working _all day_ just so you could eat this food?"

Alex looked helplessly at Harry, who shrugged. Every eye in the Hall was upon them now.

"_Are you_?" Hermione shouted, punctuating each word with a sound poke in the center of Alex's chest. "Because –" _poke_ "– if I'm not mistaken, _new boy_ –" she said the words with loathing in her voice and a few pokes to his chest "– _you_ aren't even a wizard!"

"So?" drawled a bored voice from above their heads. Alex and Hermione both turned to see the pale nose of one Draco Malfoy looming above them. "Like _you_ are even above him, Granger. You're just a stupid Mudblood."

There were a few gasps. From the Head Table, Snape surreptitiously applauded Draco.

"And, anyway, _bitch_," Mary-Sue Emerald Sapphire Tinklebell Jones spat, shoving Hermione, "_I_ saw him first."

"You're both wrong," said a haughty voice from the Ravenclaw table. "Granger isn't _stupid_, exactly, though I don't contest the fact that she's a Muggleborn – must you be so _crass_? The word is _Muggleborn_ – and _I_ saw him first."

All heads turned to stare at the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw. She had her thin arms firmly crossed over her chest and a condescending expression was fixed upon her ghostly face.

"Oh no you di-n't," Mary-Sue Emerald Sapphire Tinklebell Jones retorted, clicking her perfect fingers as she jumped out of her seat. "You did _not_ just question my statement!"

She stumbled forward a few steps and attempted to jab Helena Ravenclaw with a perfectly manicured finger.

"And what if I did?" the Ravenclaw ghost snapped, taking a step forward; Mary-Sue Emerald Sapphire Tinklebell Jones' hand was suddenly embedded in Helena's chest.

She jerked her hand away and screeched, "At least I can afford to _buy_ my own tiaras!"

Helena Ravenclaw looked bemused. "You want to take this outside, Mary-Sue Emerald Sapphire Tinklebell Jones?"

"Bet on it!" Mary-Sue Emerald Sapphire Tinklebell Jones shrieked in reply.

The two girls stormed out of the hall. A few people, including Filch (for the purposes of this story, he may be considered _human_), gingerly followed them.

"How long do you think it'll take before the sexual tension builds up to breaking point and they start snogging?" Neville asked, glancing over his shoulder. Colin Creevey hovered nervously behind him, trying to act inconspicuous.

Colin grinned shakily and waved his camera at Neville, who shifted in his seat. His pockets clinked with what sounded suspiciously like a bag full of Galleons.

"Um, try _forever_, Ron," Hermione snapped. "She's a ghost, she can't technically snog anyone."

"I'm not Ron," Neville protested.

Ron looked up from the massive mountain of food in front of him.

"Don't worry, Neville," he said, spraying them all with crumbs, "She just gets confused 'cause I say stuff like that. Automatic reaction, mate. Right, Harry?"

There was no reply. Ron's head snapped round. Hermione glanced up too.

"Where did Harry and Alex go?" she asked, "And where's Draco?"


End file.
